The Best (and Darn Near Only) Serious Poem I Ever Wrote

I didn't post this until now, in case I ever submitted it somewhere for formal publication. But the heck with it.  It's too long for every set of poetry guidelines I've ever seen, and I'm no Emily Dickinson. I first wrote this poem about three decades ago.  About once a year, I open the file and change a few words. Here's tonight's version:

Pilate’s Answer:

“...And All Ye Need to Know”

by Karen Funk Blocher

And when they thought they needed him

For all their grand and trivial schemes,

They hunted, leaving women home

To watch him dancing at their doors.

 

The men would sometimes find him, too—

An ear between two whispered words,

A hand in dying, dancing flames,

An eye that blinked in time with stars.

Soon or late, they thought they spied

An ancient foot between two growls,

And grabbing by a withered toe

They dragged him to the stadium.

In the center was a stage,

That they from every angle might

Survey and study ageless flesh—

Now young, now old, forever strange.

And one by one they came to coax,

To scream, negotiate, threaten, bribe—

While he stood smiling, mocking all,

His mouth forever smiling, shut.

And much would some of them endure

Just to glimpse his shadowed face.

They sat on nails.  They cut off ears.

They starved alone among the rats.

Then many, failing, came outside

To claim that they had heard his voice,

And used his name to justify

Their good, and bad, and mad ideas.

Others, quiet in their chairs,

Would paint him ’til their hands were dust,

In somber blues, in burning reds,

In glorious fluorescent tones.

A child, a sphinx, a laurel crown,

A junkie, shepherd, quiet pond

They saw in him, and in his hand

A flower, pitchfork, candle, sword.

Each night the thwarted pilgrims left,

Some early, others staying ’til

Their eyelids pressed on reddened eyes,

And legs could scarcely stagger off.

And after that, when all had gone,

Truth left the stage, invading dreams,

And laughing, spinning changing lies

For men to follow, blindly grateful.